


so long

by StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese



Series: inspired by TUA season 2 [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben Hargreeves-centric, Ghost Ben Hargreeves, Hurt Ben Hargreeves, POV Ben Hargreeves, Sort Of, making one, pov of death, so..... do with that information what you will, there is also implied cannibalism in this, there... isn't a tag for that, well here I am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese/pseuds/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese
Summary: Ben Hargreeves was made for destruction.Ever since he was three years old and the tentacles had ripped painfully out of his chest for the very first time, he had known this.
Series: inspired by TUA season 2 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860775
Comments: 18
Kudos: 94





	so long

Ben Hargreeves was made for destruction.

Ever since he was three years old and the tentacles had ripped painfully out of his chest for the very first time, he had known this.

He had more deaths to his name than any other Umbrella Academy member combined (except for Vanya, but Ben figured that that didn’t count since the whole destroying-the-entire-world thing never actually happened). He was the bruiser, the heavy hitter, the most powerful member.

So it made sense that he’d be the first to die.

He’d always been the first one out on the field, followed by the others in descending sequential order. He was the Horror, the one that made criminals give up the second they saw him.

Ben liked it when they were scared, because it meant he didn’t have to fight, but he hated that little rush of relief, because it meant other people’s fear made him happy, and that felt too much like Dad for his tastes.

Bad guys were afraid of the Horror, but what nobody understood was that nobody was more scared of Ben than Ben himself.

* * *

On their first mission, Ben killed eight people in ten minutes, and he was aware of it for every excruciating second.

The Horror had ripped its way out of his chest, paused momentarily to survey its prey, and then dove as the men and women started to scream.

Afterwards, Ben had been left standing there, drenched in blood and desperately trying not to start crying when the cameras were still flashing. Eventually, Dad herded the six of them towards the car, but Ben felt like he was moving in a dream.

Luther had placed a hand on his shoulder after that one, and mumbled, “Sorry,” before vanishing into the backseat.

Another time, Ben had blacked out while trying to control the Horror, and when he came to, Allison was standing in front of him, looking terrified.

He blinked and looked around. The walls of the bank they had been protected were red with blood, but strangely, there were no people there except for him and Allison, dead or otherwise.

Later, they told him Allison had been forced to Rumor the monsters away. Later, they told him what the monsters had done. What _Ben_ had done. 

They told him why there were no dead bodies.

Even Dad had been horrified.

When they got home, Ben had barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting. For several minutes, he just knelt there, sobbing and clinging to the porcelain for dear life, when a touch on his back made him jump.

It was Diego, silently rubbing his back. It only gave him a modicum of comfort, and that mission would haunt Ben for the rest of his existence, but he leaned into the touch anyways.

That was the first night he’d asked Allison to Rumor him into a dreamless sleep. It would not be the last.

The nights where they didn’t have a mission were always Ben’s favorite. Of course, they were everybody’s favorite, but Ben liked to think that he loved those nights best of all. One time, Vanya had given him his own private one-woman concert, smiling shyly as Ben clapped. Another time, he and Five had eaten those sticky, sickly sweet peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches that everybody else despised. Ben wasn’t a huge fan either, but Five’s content smirk was worth it.

* * *

In the end, though, it had been something stupid that got him. Just bad luck on his part, and good luck on the crook’s. Of course, once the Horror had melted away and Ben was left there on the pavement, bloody and sixteen and terrified, the would-be robber had taken one look at his too-young, too-pale face, realized what he had done, and promptly booked it.

It was a little strange, to go from the team’s most powerful member to being literally unable to do anything.

And Klaus did not help.

“That guy totally winked at me,” he would say excitedly, after another mission where Ben stood there uselessly and watched his siblings get beat up. “Ohmigosh I think he _winked_ at me Ben, what do I do?”

“Wink back?” Ben suggested tonelessly.

Klaus fussed and grumbled that Ben was no help _at all_ , yeesh, what sort of a skank did he take Klaus for, anyway? Ben wasn’t sure how or why _winking_ made somebody a skank, but assumed Klaus had his reasons for thinking so.

So for now, Ben talked with Klaus and fruitlessly begged him not to take drugs. 

Later, Ben would sit on railings and stairs and the ground and cabinets and watch his family fall apart.

* * *

Vanya’s book didn’t say a whole lot about him. Maybe the memory of his death was too painful. Maybe he had made less of an impact on her life than he had thought.

He hoped it wasn’t that. He couldn’t make an impact anymore, after all. 

Klaus, on the other hand, was gleefully reading his parts, loudly, for the whole alleyway to hear.

“ _Klaus is a drug addict, for starters, and Dad just let him be,_ ” Klaus read aloud, and snorted. “I can’t believe Vanya’s _slandering_ the family name like this.” 

“It’s not like she’s wrong,” Ben said, leaning over Klaus’s shoulder, and expecting Klaus to hiss at him.

To his surprise, though, Klaus considered for a moment, then grinned. “Actually, never mind. It’s Dad’s name, not ours. Vanya’s doing all of us a favor by dragging it through the mud. Maybe I should do my part in sticking it to Dad.” He lit a cigarette as Ben watched in disapproval.

“I think you’re already doing that,” he said, and Klaus flipped him off.

* * *

The bright light was impossible to look away from, and his siblings are lying on the floor of the hallway, breathing ( _but not for long if this keeps up_ ), and Vanya is still in there. 

Ben is going to die.

He's going to die, again.

He had been a child, sixteen and terrified, when he was shot and when he had refused to go into the light.

But his siblings are in danger.

Ben was already dead.

And he is not a child anymore.

He was the heavy hitter. The most powerful– _second_ most powerful– player on the team.

He would be the one to make the sacrifice, after years of watching.

Ben had finally kissed Jill. He had even hugged his brother.

Maybe it was time to go into that light.

Ben turned away from Klaus and started towards the door.

Inside the room, there were two people already dead and Vanya was dead center, glowing white.

Ben took a deep breath.

He took the plunge.

* * *

It was almost funny, how it ended.

Ben Hargreeves, Number Six, the Horror, the one you called when you needed somebody brutally murdered and then pretended not to hear the crying and vomiting afterwards, saved the world by talking.

Ben was good at talking. Very, very good. It was all he had been able to do for seventeen years. Just talk, at Klaus, to Klaus, with Klaus. But now he sat there, with Vanya, and he just talked to her.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said, remembering Luther awkwardly patting his shoulder after that particularly awful mission, Diego silently rubbing his back when he was vomiting after the Horror _did that thing_ for the first time, Allison Rumoring him into having dreamless nights on his request, Klaus keeping him company through the long and lonely years, Five making him a extra peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich one night, and Vanya playing her violin for him whenever he asked, giving that little smile when she was done.

The Hargreeves siblings would be there for her, Ben knew. Just like they were there for him.

“It’s been so long,” he had said to Vanya, when he’d asked for her to hug him until it was over, and he knew he wasn’t lying. Mom could be liberal with her hugs, but you had to ask first, otherwise her programming wouldn’t think to do it. Diego had had no problem with this, so long as it was in his bedroom and nobody could see them. Klaus had asked for them every hour of every day. But Ben only asked rarely, when the nightmares and the missions got too hard to bear alone. And Klaus certainly didn’t hug him, not that he could until a couple of years ago, and by then Klaus had outgrown hugs from his brother.

It really had been so long.

 _It’s okay, little sister,_ Ben thought, leaning into her embrace and feeling himself slip away. _But I’m sorry that I won’t be able to teach you how to control a horrible burden. I’m sorry that I’ll never be able to see your powers the way they were meant to be– completely and totally your own. I’m sorry I have to do this, and I’m sorry you have to watch me do this._

_But it’s okay._

_I’m ready to–_

**Author's Note:**

> what did you think?
> 
> just fyi, this is probably going to be my last Umbrella Academy fic for a while so that I can focus on some other projects, but writing this series has been a lot of fun and I would not be surprised if I returned to it in the future. 
> 
> have a great day, y'all :)


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